The Serpent Becomes A Lion
by Zalanor
Summary: Following events taking place in "Professor Strange", Draco Malfoy is Sorted for the second time - into Gryffindor. Follow him as he learns what it is to be a Lion, and what it's like to be respected for who you are, rather than the size of your bank account... ON HIATUS, SEE CHAPTER 16 FOR DETAILS
1. Chapter 1

**The Serpent becomes a Lion**

Disclaimer: Doctor Strange and all associated characters are the property of Marvel Comics/ Marvel Studios. Harry Potter and all associated characters are the property of J.K. Rowling.

A/N: It will help if you read Professor Strange first for context and knowing who OCs are.

**Chapter 1: Returning to Hogwarts**

For the third time since he started Hogwarts last year, Draco was afraid. The troll had been nowhere near the dungeons, it had turned out. The detention he'd done in the Forest had been terrifying, but he hadn't actually been hurt. But both those events paled in comparison to what was about to happen. At his own request, he was going to be Sorted - for the second time. He'd asked for this because he feared for his safety if he stayed in Slytherin. Following his father's sudden death, the seizure of his family's wealth and property by the Ministry, and then the arrests of his father's friends - many of whom were the fathers of his own friends - he had replied to the letter from Professor McGonagall informing him that he had been given leave of absence for the first few weeks of term on compassionate grounds, by asking if he could be Sorted again on his return.

What followed had been a chain of letters, culminating in a personal visit from Dumbledore, in which Draco had been informed of the full nature surrounding his impoverishment and the spate of arrests. Eventually, Draco's reSorting was agreed. When the day came, his mother took him to Hogsmeade and walked with him to the castle gates,where Professor McGonagall was waiting, before giving him a tearful goodbye. She had to find work in order to support them now that the family fortune was gone.

When Draco entered the Great Hall with McGonagall, everyone turned to look at him. He could hear the whispers all the way along the tables as he walked down the Hall. "Malfoy's going to be Sorted again?" "But he was Sorted last year!" "Does he look scared to you?" Eventually, the discussions and speculation grew so loud that Professor Dumbledore had to call for silence. "For reasons I will not go into, but should be evident to any of a deductive mind who kept up with the Daily Prophet just before the beginning of the school year, Mr Malfoy has been absent from us until now. For reasons of his own, Mr Malfoy requested that he be Sorted again on his return to Hogwarts. Thank you."

To that end, Professor McGonagall conjured a stool for him to sit on, and placed the battered old Sorting Hat on his head. "Hmm… Unusual," said the Hat. "Can't put you back where you were, that's for certain. A certain loyalty, but only as it benefits you, so not Hufflepuff for you. Intellect, yes, and a desire to learn, certainly, but for power and not learning for its own sake, which is far more Slytherin than Ravenclaw, and you can't go back, only forward. But as for the bravery and daring to ask for this, must be .. GRYFFINDOR!"

At the Hat's pronouncement, the Hall was filled with cries of shock and outrage from the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. A few Gryffindors, led by the Weasley twins, pretended to faint, while some of the second years who knew what he had been like last year, started to chant "We don't want him, we won't take him!" Eventually, Professor McGonagall lost her temper. With a murmured "Sonorus" pointed at her throat, she shouted "That is ENOUGH!" The combined effect of her raised voice and its magically increased volume caused silence and several people to clap their hands over their ears. "Mr Malfoy is now a Gryffindor. Despite what you may feel about this and about him, you have no say in the matter. I told each and every one of you before you were Sorted that your House will be like your family. To my House, I say this. Mr Malfoy is now in your family. Act like it, or there will be consequences."

The rest of the feast passed reasonably quietly. Draco went and sat at the Gryffindor table, but he spoke to nobody, and nobody spoke to him. His former housemates stared at him across the Hall with hatred in their eyes. When the feast was over, he followed Potter (who had somehow got rid of his scar) from a distance up to the dormitory, making sure to remember the route and password, then went straight to bed. Just because he was now one of the Lions didn't mean he had to like them, after all. Little did he know of the changes that would come about in his life from now on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Nightmares of the Remembered Kind**

That night in his new dormitory, Draco did not sleep well. He alternated throughout the night between lying awake in his four poster bed, his heart pounding with fear, and having nightmares that were more repressed memories than dreams…

_He was six years old, and he was curled up in a ball as his father fired Stinging Jinxes at him for the misdemeanour of cleaning his room himself instead of getting their house-elf to do it. __"A Malfoy does not do his servant's work, boy. That is why he has a servant in the first place." Draco never cleaned his room himself again. It wasn't for fear of the punishment, but for fear of the emotionless, ice-cold and unfeeling man his father had become. Soon, Draco came up with a name for this version of his father: the exactly like his father, but with an unchanging expression and heart of stone, the Statue was terrifying, and Draco quickly learned the subjects that caused the Statue to start taking over._

_If he questioned his father on any of his opinions. If Muggles were mentioned at all, even in the Daily Prophet. If he did anything "unbecoming of a Malfoy", of a wealthy wizard, or of wizards in general. _

_What made it worse when the Statue took over was that his mother never tried to prevent it, or even reduce what the Statue did. This made Draco think that his mother had been on the receiving end of the Statue's attention, though he hardly dared think it._

During the times he was awake, Draco tried to calm himself by constantly repeating under his breath that his father was dead, and that the Statue can't hurt him any more. It didn't help. Whenever he managed to get to sleep, the Statue was there in his mind. When morning finally came, the first thing he did was grab his Potions book and look up the recipe for Dreamless Sleep. To his dismay, it wasn't in there, which meant it was far too complicated for second years to make.

To make matters worse, he ended up sat next to"Saint Potter" at breakfast…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: We****'re Not So Different, You and I**

Draco sat at the table fuming. He'd had an awful night's sleep, he was stuck next to Potter, then Granger came and sat opposite him. And to make matters worse, Potter started talking to him! But the first sentence out of Potter's mouth instantly snapped Draco out of his anger, and replaced it with confusion. "I heard your nightmares last night, Malfoy. And saw what you did when you had them. Do you… want to talk about it?"

Draco didn't know how to respond to that, so he responded in the only way he could think of: stony silence. Then Granger chipped in "It's not just you, Malfoy. Everybody had bad dreams last night. But talking about them helps." When he still didn't answer, Potter took it upon himself to drag a response out of him. "You were curled up in a ball, with your hands over your face. That's a defensive position, trying to make yourself as small a target as possible. And you were begging for mercy, for your father to stop doing something to you. He hit you, didn't he? I know what that's like."

When Draco found his voice, his reply was scathing. "And how exactly could you possibly know that, Potter?" "Because I've experienced it too, Malfoy. Just for different reasons. My Muggle relatives hated me. I had to cook and clean for them. I wasn't allowed to eat with them. Only when I'd done all the washing up was I allowed to eat their leftovers. And there weren't many of them. When I showed any sign of magic, I was beaten. When your Hogwarts letter came, it was addressed to you, all the way down to your bedroom, right?" Draco nodded. "Well, when my first one came, it was addressed to Mr H Potter, The Cupboard Under The Stairs." "What do you mean, "first one"?" "My uncle burned it. And the next one. And the one after that. And all the ones after that. And nailed the letterbox shut, blocked up the chimney, and stopped buying eggs when a dozen letters showed up, each inside an egg. Finally, he took me, my aunt and cousin out to this shack on a rock in the middle of the sea, because he thought that a letter couldn't find me there. It took Hagrid showing up, blasting the shack door down and _hand-delivering _me a letter that I finally got to read it."

Potter stopped talking to eat his breakfast, but Granger picked up the conversation. "Not all Muggles are like that though, Malfoy. My parents are proud of me. The reason Harry's relatives hated him was probably because they were afraid of magic - it's easy to fear something you don't understand. And it's a small step from fear of something to hatred of it."

Their breakfast finished, Granger and Potter got up to leave. Potter paused a moment before he left and said quietly so that no-one but Draco could hear him, "Go talk to Professor Strange about your father, Malfoy. He helped me get away from my relatives, he can probably help you somehow." Draco gave a curt nod, to show he'd heard and had taken it under consideration. As Potter left, Draco's facade of apathy cracked, and he whispered, with a wobble in his voice, "Thank you, Harry."

**A/N: **Bam! Emotions! Apologies for the delay in updating, but writer's block is a cruel thing, especially when you need to write something which you're not good at IRL - talking about feelings.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Starting Telepathotherapy**

The advice that Harry had given him at breakfast weighed on Draco's mind all day. He worried about talking to Professor Strange after DADA, to the point that he was called out for not paying attention in Charms and Herbology. It didn't help that DADA was his last lesson of the day. They were practicing the Disarming Charm.

When the class was over, Draco waited until everyone else had left, and then nervously walked up to the front of the classroom. "Er… Professor?" "Yes, Mr Malfoy, how can I help you?" "Er.. you know hoe everybody had nightmares last night?" "I'm well aware, Mr Malfoy. You don't have to worry, steps are being taken to ensure it doesn't happen again tonight."

"I'm worried it might not work for me, Sir. Er… I don't really know how to say this, but my nightmares were more than just nightmares. They were memories, Sir." Draco could see from Professor Strange's face that he wanted more information, so he carried on. "My… my father did things to me when I was younger, Professor. He hurt me. Potter… er, Harry said you helped him get away from his Muggle relatives. Could you help me?"

"I don't know what sort of help you think I could provide, Mr Malfoy, given that your father is deceased, but I shall see what I can do. Come into my office." For the next few minutes, Draco obeyed each instruction he was given. First, he lay down on a settee, then he was given a small drink of a silvery potion that gave off purple steam. The Professor told him it was called "The Mists of Morpheus", and it would briefly put him to sleep, so he could read Draco's mind without disturbing its development. Then, before he knew it, Draco fell asleep. When he awoke, he was told he'd only been asleep for half an hour.

"My oath as a doctor, or a Healer as you know them, prevents me from telling you exactly how Harry' relatives treated him, Mr Malfoy, but I can tell you that I have seen similar things to how your father treated you. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do to help you. All I could do is cause you to forget them, and since your mind is still developing, I am unable to do that." Draco was quite upset by this, and was on the verge of breaking into tears. "Before the waterworks start, I'll reiterate my statement, but in a different way. Just because I said that** I **can't help you, doesn't mean that nobody can." "Then who can, Sir?"

"A good friend of mine, Mr Malfoy. Stay here, I'll be back in a few minutes." Draco sat astounded as Professor Strange opened a glowing orange circle in the middle of the office, and stepped through it. Drawn by youthful curiosity, Draco got up from his seat and looked through the portal before it closed. He saw a large pair of gates, leading up a wide gravel path to a large manor house. A sign on the gatepost said "The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters."

True to his word, Professor Strange returned a few minutes later. This time, the other side of the portal showed what another office. Sat behind a desk was a bald man wearing a dark green suit, who beckoned Draco through. "Professor Xavier is going to help you with your father issues, Mr Malfoy. He's just going to do a preliminary session with you today." Draco was confused. How was this man going to help? Then he heard a voice in his head! "_This is how I'm going to help you, Draco. If you prefer, you can call me Charles instead of Professor Xavier. No, you're not imagining this, nor are you going mad. I'm going to take you back through your memories, but I'll be there with you. If you want to stop, just say so."_

Draco sat down at the desk, and then his vision changed. No longer was he sat across from Charles. Instead, he was standing in Malfoy Manor, watching his younger self be beaten by the Statue. He could only watch for about thirty seconds before his sight returned to normal. "_This is going to take time, Stephen. The boy has attempted to repress his memories, and has been partially successful. I will have to slowly break down his mental barriers before helping him come to terms with his experiences."_

"_If I can bring him here at this time each week, will that be convenient for you, Charles?" "Unless a Sentinel shows up at the front gates, I shouldn't think there'll be any problems with that in the immediate future."_

With that, Professor Strange conjured another portal and took Draco back to Hogwarts. "Stay behind after class each week, and I will take you to see Charles. It would be best at this stage that you don't tell anyone about this."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Revealing the Hurt**

Draco soon settled back into the Hogwarts routine of meals, classes and homework. The talks with Charles on Thursday afternoons helped a great deal. Charles brought him to understand in his heart that the treatment he received from the Statue would not happen again, and instead of being fixed on his memories and fear, he could move on from it. In a similar vein, Draco realised that his behaviour the previous year had not been motivated by his true thoughts and feelings, but by fear of his father and what would happen if he learned that Draco was not behaving like a "good Slytherin", or acting in a way "unbecoming of a Malfoy".

But that was all in the past, and Draco resolved to change. To be the person he should be, the person who could tell the difference between fact and opinion, and who questioned the opinions of others before deciding to agree with them or who formed his own if he did not. To start with, he would apologise to Harry and Hermione for his prior behaviour towards them. But how to do it? Trying to have a private conversation could get noticed, overheard, or otherwise attract suspicion. He would have to write to them over the Christmas holidays. Thankfully, post owls didn't need to know an address in order to deliver a letter, but it helped.

When the Christmas holidays came, Draco went back to his "home" of the Leaky Cauldron. His mother seemed a lot happier than she had been when he'd gone back to school, but he assumed that it was because she was happy to see him again. That evening, he wrote the letters…

_Dear Harry/Hermione,_

_I hope that you are enjoying your time so far at Hogwarts this year, and your holidays. I'm writing to you to apologise for how I treated you when I came back to Hogwarts, and for the whole of last year. _

_That was not the real me, but a persona I had to act within, in order to stay safe. Slytherins are not pleasant to anyone but other Slytherins, as you know, but they are also cruel to a fellow Snake who does not behave like they believe a Slytherin should - like hating Muggleborns, for example, or looking down on those who have less money than them. The same applied to my life at home. If I acted in a way "unbecoming" of a Malfoy, a Slytherin, or even just a wizard, my father would hurt me. Sometimes it would be Stinging Jinxes. Sometimes it was not being allowed to eat. And sometimes it was beatings, but never severe enough to cause injuries that wouldn't heal._

_All this led to me becoming the person I was, out of fear and a desire to survive. Professor Strange and his friend Charles have helped me to move on from that part of my life, and to become the person I want to be, rather than the person others chose to make me._

_I don't know how you'll respond to this letter, but I hope that when we're back at Hogwarts, I can make up for my past. All I can do is apologise and assure you that I am no longer that person. Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but I genuinely hope that we could be friends._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Draco Malfoy._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Draco was relieved when Harry and Hermione came to sit next to him at the Gryffindor table. Thankfully, Ron and Seamus Finnegan sat far down the table from them, thought they did occasionally shoot looks of confusion their way. Before the beginning of term feast started, Professor McGonagall had a few announcements to make. "Welcome back, everyone. Since you were last here, there have been a few changes. First of all, the stairs of the Grand Staircase no longer move. The entire staircase has been modified to accommodate this. Secondly, the disused classrooms have been renovated into common areas, study rooms, and club rooms. Reservation of a club room must be done by the club president, through me. Finally, we have a new Headmistress - Professor Wainwright".

Draco craned his neck to see. The new Head was short, almost as short as Professor Flitwick, with steel grey hair made into a neat bun. She briefly stood to polite applause, gave a short speech summarising her achievements, and then the feast began.

A couple of hours later, feeling full of both food and worry about the first night back in the tower, Draco got his first look at the new Grand Staircase. The stairs now wound around a colossal pillar. At the points where the stairs reached another floor in the castle, there was a balcony area, with elegant bridges reaching out to the doors. As he climbed the stairs, he realised that the balconies had been put in so you could stop if you got dizzy or short of breath. He also noticed that they got larger the higher he went. This, no doubt, was to stop people dropping things on those lower down, but he shuddered when he realised that there was nothing stopping a person from dangling another off the edge. Candelabras hung from the undersides of the balconies and bridges, as well as extending from the edge of the staircase, looking like fruit hanging from branches.

As Draco climbed the stairs, Harry caught up with him. "I need to warn you Draco, Ron'll try and get why me and Hermione are being nice to you out of you at some point. I've told him that what you were last year was an act and that he'll know the full story when you're ready to tell it, but I don't think he's going to leave it there." "Thanks for the heads-up, Harry. I'll deal with him." Thankfully, nothing happened that night, though he did notice out of the corner of his eye that Ron and Seamus seemed to be plotting something together…

**A/N: **Apologies for the hiatus. As I derive the material for this story from _Professor Strange_, it's hard for me to write for a spin-off that may then set in stone what happens in the main story, especially when Draco hasn't appeared in _Professor Strange _for several chapters.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

The next morning, nothing untoward happened to Draco. Breakfast, the morning's lessons, lunch and then the classes afterward passed by. The only unfortunate things to occur didn't involve him, and they were all because someone made a mistake in their work. In Potions, Crabbe and Goyle appeared to descend to an even lower level of intelligence than normal, each having an accident, but the results of their accidents combined to start filling the classroom with a cloud of dark brown gas. Professor Heyerdahl ended the lesson early so the room's ventilation spells could get rid of the foul smelling vapour, and he gave Crabbe and Goyle each a week's worth of detentions.

Defence against the Dark Arts had become a lot more practical recently. Each Friday, the students would change into the martial-arts clothes on Professor Wong's side of the room, and they would duel each other in a tournament. The partners in the first round were determined by drawing names at random, and Draco ended up with Seamus Finnegan. Seamus' face darkened when Draco looked at him, and he could see that Seamus did not harbour simple dislike for him, but actively hated him. The previous year, when he was still using his facade, he had never directly done anything to Seamus, but Draco suspected that the Irish boy didn't care. As they dueled, Seamus made simple mistakes that led Professor Wong to call him out on it. "Anger will not help you in a duel, Mr Finnegan. You must maintain a cool and calm discipline. If you are angry, you are not thinking clearly. If you are not thinking clearly, you make mistakes. And depending on the mistake's severity and your opponent, you just lose or, if you're unlucky, you die."

Unknown to Professor Wong, however, Seamus did possess a calm and disciplined mind. He was just waiting for the moment to use it. That night in Gryffindor Tower, Seamus quietly spoke to Ron, and revealed his plan to him. Later, when the other boys in the dormitory were asleep, Seamus and Ron got up. Quietly and carefully, to avoid waking him, they bundled up Draco's bedding, with him it, carried him down through the common room, and out of the portrait hole. They paused a moment for breath, then without ceremony, _pushed Draco down the stairs. _Naturally, Draco woke up at this, and screaming, rolled down the stone staircase. When he stopped moving, he had no idea how far he'd fallen, but the last thing he saw was his hand covered in blood before slipping into unconsciousness. He was discovered at six o'clock the next morning by Professor Flitwick, who levitated him to the hospital wing before hurrying to notify the other teachers.


	8. Chapter 8: Crossover

**A/N: **If you're looking for Chapter 8, it's not here. It is merged with Professor Strange chapter 41. A crossover within a crossover! Crossover-ception! Normal service will resume shortly.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: ****The long wait is over! A new chapter!**

**Chapter 9**

Draco spent the next two weeks under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye. Harry and Hermione visited as often as they could, bringing class notes with them for him to read, albeit with their assistance until Madam Pomfrey removed the bandages from his arms and hands, allowing him to hold the parchment himself. When Madam Pomfrey finally discharged him from her care, Draco walked out of the hospital wing straight into his friends, who promptly enveloped him in a hug.

As they walked back to the Gryffindor common room together, Draco being filled in on what had happened that day, Draco found himself contemplating what the Sorting Hat had said in its song the year before "Their daring, nerve, and chivalry, set Gryffindors apart." While he wasn't too sure about what chivalry was, he knew that he had daring and nerve. He knew he had nothing to worry about from the members of his former House, for unlike Slytherins, Gryffindors looked out for each other. He would look out for Harry and Hermione, as they had done for him. No longer did he feel like a Serpent, but instead, a Lion.

**A/N 2: **The end, for now. I've struggled to write this story, particularly in connecting the vague ideas I've had/have together. Since this story was derived from events in Professor Strange, and that's now finished, I feel that I have to write the sequel to that first, before I can draw out any more of this story. I do plan for Dramione to develop as a thing, though.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

-Time skip to the summer-

Draco was happy with his life. He had friends who liked him for who he was, rather than for his family's wealth and power. He lived in a small countryside cottage that felt like home, which Malfoy Manor had never done. And he had a father who loved him and cared for him, rather than a cold and hard man who desired only a younger copy of himself instead of a son. To top it all off, he and his mother had left the name of Malfoy behind, in the grave it belonged in. They were now Hardacres, for in April, his mother had quietly and without fuss married Quentin Hardacre, who she had confided all her troubles in one night after locking up at Twilfitt and Tattings, the robe shop at which they both worked.

Despite his now idyllic life, Draco had but one problem. He was completely and utterly bored. During the day, he was left to his own devices, as both his parents still had to go to work. He couldn't go flying, as he had often done in his past life at Malfoy Manor, for though he still had his broomstick from that time, the area in which he now lived was very flat, contained very few trees, and was extremely popular with bird-watchers, so the chance that a Muggle would see him was quite high. Nor could he go into the nearby Muggle village, for though he did have some Muggle clothes, he was still somewhat afraid of Muggles and Muggle things. Though he did intend to conquer those fears, having chosen Muggle Studies as one of his electives for third year.

One morning after his parents had left for Twilfitt and Tattings, Draco was aimlessly staring out of the kitchen window, eating porridge for breakfast, when two things happened to lift him out of his boredom. Firstly, an owl appeared at the window, bearing a smart golden envelope addressed to him and his mother. When he opened it, it was an invitation to the wedding of his first cousin Sirius to a woman named Francine Griffiths, who that was he had no idea. The second thing that happened was that a few minutes later, someone he recognised walked past. To his surprise, it was Hermione Granger. Despite being dressed in Muggle clothes, he instinctively didn't want to be seen by any Muggles, not even for a minute, so he loudly tapped on the window, hoping to attract her attention.

To his relief, she heard the noise and turned to look for the source. When she saw him, her face spread into a beaming smile that for some reason, made Draco feel like his body had decided all by itself to conjure a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He didn't know what the feeling meant, but as Hermione walked up to the front door of the cottage, he knew the rest of his summer just got a lot more interesting…


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

As soon as Draco opened the door, he was enveloped in a hug by Hermione. They stood there for a minute before he remembered his manners and broke it apart to invite her in, extremely conscious of the fact that he was blushing. "What are you doing here Hermione?" he asked. "I thought you lived in London." Hermione giggled, which made the butterflies in Draco's stomach come back. "Just because I'm Muggleborn doesn't mean we all live in London, Draco. We _do_ have cars, you know. I live here, just a few minutes away. I'd have thought you'd have seen my house, considering my parents' dentist practice is right next door, and it says _Doctor and Doctor Granger_ on the door."

Draco blushed again. "I, er, haven't been outside since I got here. I'm… erm…" he trailed off. "You're what?" asked Hermione. "It's nothing to be ashamed about, I won't laugh, I promise." "I'm scared of the Muggles," he admitted, looking down at his feet. "Even though I have Muggle clothes now, I'm terrified of making a mistake and breaking the Statute of Secrecy." Hermione paused to think before seeming to come to a decision. "I'm going to help you get over that fear then. Come on, get some shoes on." "Where are we going?" "My house, of course. You said you were going to take Muggle Studies this year, so why not get some study in by visiting a Muggle house?"

After scribbling a note on a scrap of parchment to say where he was, Draco carefully locked the door, and walked out into the Muggle world for the first time. Hermione guided him to her house, avoiding several groups of people with walking sticks, large cameras, and rucksacks. "Tourists," she explained to Draco. "We get a lot of them in the summer." Eventually, the pair arrived at a smart red brick house, next to one with smooth white walls. A sign by the door on the white building proclaimed it to be "Bourton-On-The-Water Dental Surgery. Senior Practitioners: Mr D. Granger and Mrs E. Granger."

As Hermione unlocked and opened the door of the red house, Draco clapped his hands over his ears. A loud, harsh beeping sound was coming from a small box on the wall, just inside. Hermione nonchalantly pressed a few buttons on the box and the noise stopped. Draco removed his hands and shakily asked "What was that?" "A burglar alarm," replied Hermione. "If it starts making the noise and doesn't stop after a few seconds, it means someone's broken in, so somebody should call the police."

For the rest of the day until teatime, Draco was subjected to new and strange things. He learned the names of, and how to use, a television, telephone, computer, fridge, freezer, kettle, microwave, toaster, dishwasher, washing machine, and tumble dryer. By the time he got back to his own home, his mind was whirling with what he had learned, but he mostly thought about how he had felt whenever Hermione smiled at him…

**A/N:** Bourton-On-The-Water is a lovely village in Gloucestershire. If you haven't been there, go. (Once the COVID-19 lockdown is over, obviously.) There are many interesting things to see, including a model village. Because the model village is a model of the village (duh), and the model village is in the village (duh again), the model village contains a model of the model village. In the model of the model village in the model village, is a model of the model village. Inside that model is a little dot. That little dot represents the model village on that scale.

If you're of the opinion that Hermione lives in London, allow me to remind you of a couple of things. 1)This is my story, and I'll write what I want. 2)In the books, it is never stated where Hermione lives. The only evidence we have that she lives in London is that some clever clogs actually found the house that was used as the Granger family home in Deathly Hallows Part 1, and the house happens to be in London.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

That evening, when his parents got home from work, Draco showed them the wedding invitation. His mother smiled when she read it, and sent a reply to "Cousin Siri", along with a letter Draco had written to Harry that afternoon. Naturally for two robe sellers, the conversation between Narcissa and Quentin swiftly turned toward dress robes. Price and style were the characteristics that required the most attention. As family of the groom, it would not do for them to appear at the wedding in cheap robes made in a style that had been fashionable eighty-five years ago, but neither could they be in robes that cost their whole Gringotts vault.

Unfortunately for them, fate had other ideas. A few days later, Draco woke in the middle of the night. He felt freezing cold, but his pyjamas and bedding were soaked with sweat. His heart was pounding like a drum, and as he opened his mouth to take a deep breath, instead he launched into a raucous coughing fit. He coughed, and coughed, and eventually something soft and slimy shot out of his mouth. Scrabbling for his wand, he managed to say "Lumos", before coughing again. From the light of his wand, he could see that on his bed, sat a small wet ball of black hair. Feeling weak, he awkwardly rolled out of bed and made his way to the kitchen for some water. On the way, he passed the open door to the bathroom, and out of the corner of his eye, caught sight of himself in the mirror, gasping in shock at his reflection.

His normally blond hair had turned black, and his eyes were yellow, with vertical slits for pupils. He would have screamed, but instead launched into another coughing fit. At that moment, the door to his mother and Quentin's room opened, and his mother emerged, rubbing her eyes. She, too, looked at him and gasped. "Back to bed, Draco. Now. You shouldn't be on your feet in your condition." Narcissa ducked back into her own bedroom for her wand, before conjuring a bucket just in time to catch another hairball emerging from Draco's mouth. "Accio Pepper-Up Potion" she said, waving her wand. A moment later, a red bottle zoomed into her hand. When Draco was back in bed, he was dosed with the Pepper-Up, steam coming out of his ears. "Mother?" Draco asked hoarsely, "What's wrong with me?" "You've come down with Black Cat Flu," she replied sadly. "We can't go to the wedding, or go to work, because it's quite contagious. We'll go to Saint Mungo's in the morning. Try and sleep, sweetheart."

Draco lay there miserably. Not only could he not go to the wedding, he couldn't go anywhere, which meant he couldn't visit Hermione, nor presumably, could she visit him. Besides, even if she could, she probably wouldn't out of fear of passing his illness on to her parents. He didn't know anything about medicine, but he suspected wizarding illnesses would almost certainly kill Muggles. He just hoped he wouldn't be ill for too long.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Early the next morning, even before the sun was up, the Hardacres went to Saint Mungo's Hospital. When they got to the front of the queue to the reception desk, the witch behind it took one look at Draco and waved her wand. The next moment, a loud wailing noise started, and a voice that came from nowhere bellowed "QUARANTINE TO RECEPTION! QUARANTINE TO RECEPTION!" Before Draco knew what was happening, he was whisked away to a private room by Healers wearing thick gloves and leather masks that covered their whole faces.

The Healers gave Draco a set of blue hospital robes to wear, then took his own clothes away. For the next few hours, he was given an array of potions, had spells cast over him, and was asked questions. "Young man, you have Black Cat Flu," said the Healer in charge. "Have you had it before?" "Never," said Draco. "Since that's the case, then there are some things you need to know. Although the potions we have given you will stop you from suffering the worst symptoms, as well as no longer being contagious to other wizards and witches, you are still contagious to Muggles. If you have any Muggleborn friends, until you are better, you cannot visit them or write to them, or you risk passing your condition onto their family – and it is lethal to Muggles. In the same way, you cannot go into the Muggle world."

Draco's heart sank. He couldn't visit Hermione, nor could she visit him. To make things worse, he couldn't tell her about it, either. The Healers returned his clothes, strongly smelling of lemon for some reason, and gave him a pair of dark glasses to wear. "Your eyes will be more sensitive to light until you recover, so these will help." said the Healer who handed him them. A few minutes later, in a small office, Draco was reunited with his parents, also smelling strongly of lemon. "To prevent you from coming into contact with Muggles, even for a moment," said the wizard behind the desk, "you'll be leaving here by Portkey. What's your address?" "Pheasant Cottage, Bourton-On-The-Water." replied Quentin. The wizard pulled out his wand and drew a large pebble out of a jar on his desk. Touching the pebble with the tip of his wand, he murmured "_Portus_." The pebble glowed for a moment with a soft blue light. "You'll arrive in your kitchen," said the wizard. "A finger on the pebble, please." When all three of them were touching the pebble, the wizard tapped it with his wand again, and then Draco felt a strong yank around his waist. The office blurred and spun, and when the spinning stopped, he realised he was home.

The next thing he realised was that he felt like he was about to throw up. Thankfully, he didn't, but his mother bundled him up in bed with a magically refilling glass of water and a plate of plain toast, despite his protestations that he felt better. "The potions the Healers gave you stopped the _worst_ symptoms, Draco," she told him. "That means they didn't stop all of them." Later the next afternoon, he admitted to himself that his mother was right. He felt awful. He was sweating heavily, and having bouts of sneezing and coughing every few minutes, but thankfully with no hairballs. Worst of all, he thought, was the overwhelming feeling of loneliness. He missed Hermione.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Over the course of the remainder of the summer, Draco's symptoms abated. Eventually, all that was left were black streaks in his blond hair. On September the first, Draco waited on Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters for Harry, who arrived a few minutes later with his godparents. Harry pulled a curious expression at Draco when he saw him. "We would have loved to have been able to come to the wedding, but Draco came down with Black Cat Flu," said Draco's mother, hugging her cousin. "We would have sent an owl, but the Healers at Saint Mungo's told us not to write to anyone, something about how owls could potentially carry it to other people."

"What's Black Cat Flu?" Harry asked Draco as they heaved their luggage onto the train. "It's bloody awful, is what it is. You feel freezing cold, but you're sweating cauldrons, and coughing so hard it sounds like your lungs are going to fly out of your mouth." "That sounds bad, but not too bad." "Then," he continued, "you start bringing up hairballs, your hair turns black, and your eyes turn into cat eyes. I was just thankful I didn't end up with whiskers. Or dying." "People die from it?" "Oh yeah, not as many now, but it killed loads of people a couple of hundred years ago."

As the two boys opened a compartment, a voice made them stop dead. "Draco Hardacre! You! Complete! Arse! Why didn't you let me know you were sick?!" Turning on the spot, they saw Hermione glaring at them, holding a woven travel basket in one hand. Draco's heart started pounding, and he felt a tickling sensation in his stomach. He had missed her dearly, and wanted to tell her so, but not with Harry there. "Because owls can spread Black Cat Flu, so I could have spread it to you if I sent a letter, and your parents are Muggles, so they'd probably die if they got it." he said weakly. Hermione's mouth dropped open for a moment before snapping shut. "Then what about a telephone call then? Have you forgotten how to make them?" "No, but we haven't got a telephone. Fully wizarding family, remember. No electricity." "Fine. You're forgiven.", Hermione said, opening the compartment door for them. As Draco walked passed her, he caught a faint whiff of flowers. It smelled sweet and warm, and the tickling in his stomach intensified.

He was surprised to see that the compartment was already occupied. A wizard in shabby robes was dozing on the seat, a battered looking suitcase in the luggage rack above him. "Who's that?" hissed Draco. "Professor R. J. Lupin" whispered Hermione, at the same time as Harry replied in the same tone of voice "Remus Lupin." "How'd you both know that?" "It's on his suitcase, Draco." "I've already met him, he was the best man at the wedding." "I wonder what he's going to teach," said quietly Hermione as the train pulled out of the station, "there aren't any subjects open are there?"

The journey to Hogwarts was uneventful, except for when Hermione opened her basket to reveal a large orange cat with a very flat face, which promptly decided Draco's lap was where it wanted to be. "Crookshanks likes you," giggled Hermione, as he looked down at the cat. He shivered almost imperceptibly as Hermione giggled again. Why did that noise make him want to hear it again?

The main subject of conversation for a while was Hogsmeade, the village near the castle. As third years, they were now allowed to visit on certain weekends. "The Shrieking Shack's supposedly the most haunted building in Britain, isn't it?" asked Hermione. "Nah, it's not haunted," Harry replied, "Sirius told me. I mean, Hogwarts is haunted, and the ghosts aren't scary, are they?" "The Bloody Baron is", Draco cut in. "You didn't end up next to him at the Welcome Feast in our first year." "So if it wasn't a ghost, what were people hearing when they reported screams and howls coming from the Shack then?" "No idea," shrugged Harry. "Sirius wouldn't tell me. He said he, my dad, and _Peter Pettigrew_ (his face scrunched up in disgust when he said Pettigrew's name) knew what it was, but that it wasn't his secret to tell."

"Anyway," said Draco, "forget the Shrieking Shack, Honeydukes is probably the best place in Hogsmeade. "What's that?" Hermione asked. "It's a sweetshop, but not just any sweetshop. They have everything, and I mean _everything_." He was about to launch into a list of his favourite Honeydukes products when the compartment door opened and the Weasley twins stuck their heads round it for a moment. "Hey. Harry, have you heard about the Slytherins?" "No, what about them?" "Except for their Quidditch team, their boy prefect, and that Italian one in your year, Zabini, his name is? - there isn't a single Slytherin boy on the train. Well, apart from whoever they'll get from the firsties, that is." "A real shame it is, Gred." "I quite agree, Forge. Almost our entire roster of prank targets, gone."

The twins wandered off, leaving the third years to digest this new information. Draco was somewhat relieved. Fewer Slytherins meant fewer potential problems for him. "Where have they all gone?" Hermione wondered aloud. "Why did Professor Wainwright let them go?" "You only have to ask permission to transfer during a school year," Draco answered. "You have two options – move to another school, or have private tutors. And since the nearest school after Hogwarts is Beauxbatons Academy, in France, and only a few families could afford private tutors, transfers are rare. They'll have gone to Durmstrang, I bet."

"Where's Durmstrang?" asked Harry. "No idea. All I know is it's in Europe, and somewhere colder than Scotland. They really like the Dark Arts, though. Grindelwald went there, and we know how he turned out." The conversation lulled after that. Eventually, the train arrived at Hogwarts, and a brief carriage ride later, they were in the Great Hall.

Many glances were being shot towards the mostly empty Slytherin table ( Draco noticed that Zabini seemed somewhat pleased to be surrounded by girls, and he remembered from his time in Slytherin that Zabini seemed to think that because he was Italian, he was Merlin's gift to witches), Professor McGonagall strode into the Hall, leading the new first years.

The actual Sorting took a while, as it always did, and everybody was glad when "Vickers, Josephine" was the last to be Sorted, into Ravenclaw. As Professor McGonagall took the Hat away, Professor Wainwright mounted a small set of steps and cleared her throat.

"Before the Feast begins, I have a few announcements to make. First, two staff changes. Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, has retired, in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. His replacement is our own groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid." Hagrid briefly stood to applause, led by the Gryffindor table. "Professor Strange will no longer be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, in order to focus solely on Dimensional Magic. While Professor Wong is still teaching Defence, he will be joined by Professor Remus Lupin."

"Secondly, the Forbidden Forest is still forbidden. In addition, lists of prohibited items can be found on the common room noticeboards. If you are found to have anything on the list, it will be confiscated, and you will serve detention. Third, the House Point system has been reinstated. However, in an attempt to curb inter-House rivalry, the hourglasses are in my office, thus keeping you unaware of the running totals. Finally, bullying, stealing, and/or attacking another student will not be tolerated. If you are found doing or to have done such things, you **will** be expelled. Now, on a cheerier note, let the feast begin!" The feast, as usual, was varied and delicious. Draco went to bed feeling stuffed.

At breakfast the next morning, Professor McGonagall went down the tables handing out timetables. Draco was pleased to see that his first lesson was Defence Against the Dark Arts, followed by Care of Magical Creatures. After lunch, he had a free period, then his first Muggle Studies class, and Potions last. He was excited for Muggle Studies, confident that his visit to Hermione's house over the summer would give him an advantage. What wasn't expected was that instead of having Potions with just the Slytherins, the Gryffindors would be having it with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw as well. When the Brown girl (Draco wasn't on a first name basis with all his Housemates yet) asked why, Professor McGonagall crisply said "Since there are so few Slytherin students this year, Professor Heyerdahl has made the decision to merge his classes for each year together, with the exception of the first years."

When the third years got to the Defence classroom, Professor Lupin was waiting at the door for them. "You will not need your books," he said. "This will be a practical lesson." Interested already, they crowded in to the room. The classroom was laid out in much the same way as last year, with half the floor covered in thick mats and with changing cubicles along one wall, with the other half reserved for desks. However, the desks and chairs had been neatly pushed to one side. What replaced them was an extremely large mirror, and beyond it, a wardrobe, which was banging and rattling.

"This year," said Professor Lupin, walking to the front of the class, "your lessons with me will be focused on Dark creatures." "There's not a Dark creature in there, is there, sir?" asked Patil, pointing at the wardrobe. "There is indeed, Miss Patil, but it's only a Boggart." No-one seemed to be reassured now they knew whatever was in the wardrobe was "only" a Boggart. "Can anyone tell me," asked Professor Lupin, "what a Boggart looks like?" Hermione's hand shot into the air. "No-one knows. Boggarts are shapeshifters. They take the form of whatever the person facing them fears the most. That's what makes them…" "So terrifying, yes," finished Professor Lupin. "Now, since we are in a group, that gives us an advantage in dealing with him. Can anyone guess what that might be?"

Harry raised his hand. "Er… since there are so many of us, it doesn't know what to turn into?" "Quite right, Harry. The Boggart does not know what he should become until he is facing someone, and becomes confused when faced with more than one person. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a giant flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that mistake, tried to do both and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening. Fortunately, a simple charm exists to repel a Boggart. It involves _laughter_. The charm is _Riddikulus._ All together – one, two, three…" "Riddikulus!" chorused the class.

"Now, I want each of you to picture the thing you fear the very most, and to try and turn it into something funny. I realise that a person's worst fear can, naturally, be very personal, and some of you may not want your classmates to know what your fear is. That is why, until your turn comes to face the Boggart, you will be standing behind the mirror. It is a two-way mirror – that is, the Boggart will be able to see you, but you will not be able to see him. If you don't manage to change the Boggart, I will step in front of you, so that its focus switches to me. Now, form a line, no shoving."

When Draco's turn came, he stepped around the mirror, to be faced with a seal balancing a ball on its nose. It caught his eye, and the ball vanished, the Boggart becoming taller, and thinner, growing long blond hair, and then the Statue was in front of him. Draco's face paled, but he drew on his visits from last year, to Professor Strange's friend Charles. "The man is dead. Whatever you say about him, he cannot hear." Draco fixed that thought in his mind, and called "Riddikulus!" The Boggart-Statue's hair took on a life of its own, flying in front of its face. The Boggart stumbled about, crashing into Professor Lupin's desk, before collapsing into the open wardrobe, the door slamming shut and locking itself with a smart _click_ after a wave of Professor Lupin's wand.

"Alright, that's the end of the lesson," said Professor Lupin, as Draco he returned to the other side of the mirror, his face still pale. "Five points to everyone who managed to Riddikulus the Boggart." As Harry turned to leave, Draco heard Professor Lupin said to him quietly "Harry, please come and see me this evening."

Draco and Harry said "see you at lunch" to Hermione as they walked down the Grand Staircase. She had Arithmancy next, whereas they had Care of Magical Creatures. Once outside the castle, they headed along with the others taking the subject to Hagrid's hut. "Why does Lupin want to talk to you already?" Draco asked as they walked. "Probably because of what the Boggart was for me. I think he could tell I wasn't expecting it to be what it was." "And what was it?" "I don't want to talk about it." "Fine, then. What do you reckon the Creatures are going to be?"

Harry chuckled. "Knowing Hagrid, something he thinks isn't dangerous." Draco pulled out his copy of the _Monster Book of Monsters_, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. "If his idea of a good textbook is one that tries to bite you, you're probably right. What was wrong with _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_?"

Hagrid was waiting for the class at the door to his hut, by the edge of the Forest. "C'mon now, get a move on!" he called as they approached. "Got a great lesson for yeh today! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

For one brief moment, they both stopped dead in their tracks. They had been in the Forest before, in their first year, and once was enough, as far as they were concerned. But instead, Hagrid led them around the edge of the Forest, to an enclosed paddock. There was nothing in it. "Right," said Hagrid, "get up to the fence, so ye'll be able to see. Now, the first thing ye're gonna need is to open your books…"

"How?" called a sceptical voice. Draco turned, as did Harry, to see a boy in Hufflepuff colours hold up his copy of the _Monster Book_, which he had sealed shut with a bench clamp. "How exactly are we supposed to open them, when they keep trying to bite us?" "Ye've got to stroke the spine, of course," said Hagrid, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh, of course!" sneered the boy. "Stroke them! It's not as if we could have worked that out, when a biting book doesn't come with instructions on how to get it open!" Draco saw himself in the boy – or rather, the façade he had worn two years ago. He had been faking it, but he could tell the Hufflepuff was genuinely like that.

"Right, you've got yer books," said Hagrid, "so yer need the Creatures. I'll just go get 'em…" The Hufflepuff boy carried on with his putting-down of Hagrid. "I don't think much of this subject if even the textbook is dangerous. I mean, is Professor Wainwright sure he's competent to teach?" A minute later, Hagrid was back, leading with chains and collars a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Draco had ever seen. They had the hindquarters of horses, but their forequarters were those of an enormous eagle, with broad wings and long, sharp beaks and talons. "Hippogriffs!" beamed Hagrid. "Beautiful, ain't they?"

Once the initial shock was over, Draco had to admit the Hippogriffs were quite beautiful, in a fierce sort of way. "Now," Hagrid said, "The firs' thing yer gotta know is that Hippogriffs are very proud creatures. You do **not **want to insult a Hippogriff. It may be the last thing you ever do." Everybody took a step back from the fence, but Hagrid didn't seem to notice. "If yer gonna approach a Hippogriff," he continued, "you gotta be respectful. Yer need to make eye contact, and keep it, makin' a nice, long an' slow bow. He bows back, an' ye can get closer. Now," he clapped his hands together, "who wants to come and say hello?"

Nobody moved, but then the Hufflepuff boy clambered over the fence. He ignored everything Hagrid had just said and strode right up to a grey Hippogriff. The Hippogriff objected to his lack of respect, rearing up on its back legs and squawking, which set the others off. Hagrid interposed his bulk between the boy and the Hippogriff as fast as he could, but was too late to prevent the boy getting a long scratch on his arm.

Hagrid managed to calm the Hippogriffs down as the boy writhed on the grass. "Aargh!" yelled the boy. "It's killed me! It's killed me!" "Yer not dyin', it's just a scratch." Hagrid said gruffly. "An' tha'll be fifteen points from Hufflepuff fer' not payin' attention, or fer payin' attention an' then ignorin' what yer heard, whichever it is. An' another ten fer malingerin'. Now get yerself to Madam Pomfrey." "Blimey," Harry heard Justin Finch-Fletchley murmur. "First day back and Zacharias loses us points already. Must be a record."

When Zacharias was gone, Hagrid carried on with the lesson. "Right. Hippogriffs burrow fer insects – ants, beetles, woodlice, stuff like tha'. They'll eat small birds and animals though, they ain't picky." "Do they have chicks or foals?" asked Justin. "Depends on tha' breed," Hagrid replied. "Sum of 'em give birth, an' sum lay eggs. Yer gotta keep the breeds separate, yer can't have a male from an egg-layin' breed matin' with a female that gives birth, or tha other way round. Dun't stop em trying in tha wild, though. These ones are egg-layers."

"How many babies do they have at a time?"Brown asked. "Jus' one, they can't tek care o' more than tha'. They'd only feed the one tha' started out stronger." Hagrid was pleased that the class were starting to actually ask questions, and he seemed to become more enthusiastic as the questions kept coming. "How long do they take to hatch or give birth?" "Once they've bred, it teks about a year fer em' to give birth or lay the egg, but the eggs hatch after a day or so. The young're walkin' after a day, an' can fly after a week, but they can't go far till they're about six months old." "Can you keep them?" "Yer can tame 'em, but it's dangerous. If yer got one, yer gotta keep a Disill… a Disill… ah, a Disillusionment Charm on it, so tha Muggles can't see it." "Do they go round in.. er.. is it herds or flocks?" "It's herds, and these ones do, but most of 'em don't. They've got the instinct fer it, but most o' them ain't got a big enough territory to support a herd."

Once the questions stopped, Hagrid had the class approach and bow to the grey Hippogriff, one at a time. He explained that Buckbeak, for that was its name, was the alpha male of the herd, and if he accepted them, so would the others. Thankfully, no-one else was injured, and everybody got to touch the Hippogriffs. Just before Hagrid dismissed the class, he announced that he had asked Professor Wainwright for permission to set up a club for anyone who wanted to ride the Hippogriffs.

After lunch, as Harry and Hermione went to Ancient Runes, Draco found himself alone. The third years all had Friday afternoons off, but they also had one free period each day from Mondays to Thursdays, when it was exactly depending on what subjects they were doing that day, and which electives they had chosen. Hermione had sacrificed her free period to do Arithmancy as a third elective, and Harry had his between Runes and Potions. Having nothing else to do, Draco pulled out his textbook for Muggle Studies and began reviewing the first chapter. He didn't want to be called on in class and make a basic mistake, especially since Hermione was going to be in the class as well.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

After lunch, Draco walked with Hermione to the Muggle Studies classroom. When they got there, they were surprised to see that the class was quite large. "There can't be this many people genuinely interested, can there?" Draco asked Hermione. She shrugged, replying, "Since Professor Wainwright scrapped Divination, most of them are probably looking for an _easy_ subject." The way she said "easy" put Draco in mind of what Hermione thought about people who "didn't apply themselves to the best of their capabilities". A couple of minutes later, when everyone had arrived, the teacher introduced herself as Professor Burbage. "Last year," she started, "Mister Coombes and his colleagues from the IDEAS Office recommended that Muggle Studies become a compulsory subject. However, doing so would have left a vacancy in the elective options, and we would have nothing to fill it with, so Muggle Studies will remain an elective for the time being. Now, where are the most common places you might encounter Muggles?"

The material covered in that first class was incredibly simple to Draco, as Hermione had taught him the basics over his one-day visit during the summer. The rest of the wizarding raised students actually found it interesting though, marvelling over Muggle coins. "Why are these two a different shape?" asked Hannah Abbott, holding up a twenty pence coin alongside a fifty pence. "And why do some of them have lines on the sides?" Professor Burbage smiled and answered "It's twofold – first, how the Muggles try to prevent forgery, Miss Abbott. The shape of those two coins and the lines on the others – which are called milling, by the way - makes it obvious if someone has clipped off a tiny piece of the coin. If they did that enough, they could amass enough metal to make a fake coin. If someone was paid in clipped coins, the person who paid them could be suspected of forgery. Second, close your eyes and handle the coins again. They feel different, don't they, so going by size and shape, you could tell what they are in the dark."

When the class was over, Draco had to wait for Hermione, as Professor Burbage had asked her to stay behind. When she came out, she looked quite disappointed. "What's wrong?" Draco asked. "Professor Burbage suggested I drop the class." "Drop it? Why?" Hermione sighed. "Even though Professor Wainwright managed to get the course updated, it's still only covering things that. as a Muggleborn, I'm already familiar with. Even though I said I was taking it because I thought it would be fascinating to study Muggles from a wizarding perspective, Professor Burbage still thinks it would be a waste of my time, and she said that she would tell any Muggleborn student that."


	16. Break

**Break Author's Note**

It's been a good run, but the well of inspiration for this story – as a standalone work – has run dry for the time being. I feel that I've achieved what I wanted to, in that this Draco has become a decent human being. Since this has been a companion story to part of _Professor Strange_, and the whole of _Harry Potter and the Dark Dimension_, I derived the content from them. As such, since Draco has replaced Ron in the Trio, for events that occur to Harry (while in class, at meals, etc) the same things have been happening to Draco, thus all I've been doing here for those events is repeating myself with a slight change, and I dislike repeating myself.

Therefore, I have come to the decision that I will place this story on intermittent hiatus, updating whenever I have material to cover an event that involves Draco, but _not _Harry, such as Draco's home life or his just-beginning-to-bloom relationship with Hermione.


End file.
